“We could pay her off."
"Don't be an idiot." He smiled inwardly when the man wearing the Hermes tie winced. He'd always enjoyed inflicting humiliation. He'd always enjoyed possessing that kind of power.
"I assumed that since she's—"
"Buy-offs are temporary and dangerous. You should know more about human nature by now." He considered himself an expert on human nature, particularly the dark side. "I'm interested only in permanent solutions."
The man's eyes darted to the window and the rain beyond. "I understand."
"I don't want any more questions raised. I don't want any more people involved. And I don't want any loose ends. Make certain your solutions are definitive."
Their eyes met. An explicit understanding passed between them. One of them would act. The other would pay an exorbitant fee.
"Consider it done."
"Make sure the remaining records are destroyed."
"I'm working on it."
His perfectly manicured hand tightened around the snifter. He didn't like vague answers. "Do it quickly." His voice lowered ominously. "You've got all my resources at your disposal. I don't have to remind you what's at stake."
The other man rose. "I know precisely what's at stake. I'll take care of it."
*
"Lord Christ Almighty!" Gretchen Wentworth took one look at the front door and came through it like a Peterbilt skidding around a hairpin turn.
Having gone most of the night without sleep, Addison winced at the other woman's worried-grandmother tone, wishing she'd taken the time to swallow some aspirin before driving in to the shop to assess the damage and fill in her overprotective employee.
"Hi, Gretch."
Gretchen looked at Addison as if she wasn't quite sure whether to hit her or embrace her. "I ought to throttle you for not calling me last night!" The older woman pulled her close, hugged her tightly, then shoved her to arm's length. "Good God, honey, what in the bejeebers happened?"
"I told you. There was an attempted robbery."
Purse flying, Gretchen swung a wiry arm toward the bullet-riddled bar. "You didn't mention that when you called me this morning!" Her mouth flew open at the sight of the hole in the cash register. "Or that! Good Lord, I got more details from my TV.”
Addison had called her friend at five A.M. and explained that there had been an attempted robbery and that the shop would be closed for a few days. She hadn't gone into detail—and hadn't expected Gretchen to show up before lunch.
Now she had some explaining to do. "Sorry, Gretch, but I just didn't want to go into it over the telephone. I didn't want to worry you."
"Oh, honey, I'm as sorry as I am mad at you. You didn't have to go through this alone."
The fact that she hadn't actually been alone made her think of Randall—for the dozenth time that morning. She told herself she wasn't preoccupied with him. That her thoughts had wandered to him repeatedly only because he'd saved her life and they'd spent a few intense hours together the night before. Just because she'd hired him didn't mean she was going to start thinking about his dark eyes or that crooked smile of his. Clearly, he wasn't her type. Not that she had a type, she reminded herself.
"I'm not a puff, you know." Gretchen raised her hand and touched Addison's cheek with the backs of her fingers.
"You've got enough on your mind with Brittany about to give birth," Addison said.
"There's enough mother in me to take care of my three daughters and you, honey. You know that."
Forcing a smile to head off the emotion that tightened her throat, Addison covered Gretchen's hand with her own and squeezed. "You never let me forget how lucky I am to have you as a friend."
"Friend?" Gretchen huffed. "Family, more like. I consider you one of my own."
"Keep this up and I'm going to cry, Gretch."
"We can't have that." The older woman smiled. "Sit down and tell me what-the heck happened."
Leaving out some of the darker details, Addison relayed the incident from beginning to end. She kept her voice even and controlled. When her hands began to shake, when the images rushed at her—the gun, the ski mask—she rose from the bistro table and busied herself making a pot of New Guinea dark roast. She'd been operating on coffee most of the night. She supposed one more cup wouldn't hurt.
"Thank God that private detective showed up when he did." Gretchen followed her behind the counter, angrily digesting the information. "God forbid, Addison, you could have been killed."
On a day when the reality of her own mortality hovered so near, Addison had little to say on the subject of death. She filled two mugs with coffee and passed one to Gretchen.